Page 9 of Ring of Ruin

Holgan halted opposite the chip shop and switched off the engine. “Can’t see any lights on, so he might not be there.”

I undid my seat belt and leaned forward to peer through the front windshield. There was no obvious signage on the door or single window, the blinds were half drawn, and the room beyond dark. But if there was one thing we’d learned over the last few weeks, it was never to take things at face value.

“We should still check,” Lugh said and reached back for the pack.

“Leave it,” Holgan said. “It’s safe enough in the car, and besides, the shop doesn’t look all that large. The pack will just get in the way.”

Lugh hesitated, glanced at me, and then got out. Holgan followed. I unfastened the sword from the backpack, then climbed out. While Holgan might be sure the sword was perfectly safe locked in the car, I wasn’t about to leave it unguarded. Not when it could call to evil as easily as I called the wind. Besides, the weather witch had escaped, and it was possible this place was now being watched. I couldn’t see anyone obviously doing so, but then I wouldn’t if they were in any way good at their job.

I called to the wind, wrapped her around the sword, and then ordered her skyward. It rose so fast it was little more than a shadowed blur. The witch might have recovered enough to make another attempt at snatching it from my grip, but at least I’d feel any attempt to do so.

I zipped up my coat and hurried across the road after the two men. A little sign on the front door said the shop was closed and would reopen tomorrow.

I stopped and shoved my hands into my pockets. A chill was running through me, and I wasn’t entirely sure it had anything to do with the icy wind rolling off the nearby loch. “Any sign of pixie dust?”

“Pixie dust?” Holgan glanced at me. “Why on earth would there be pixie dust here in a place like this? This ain’t one of your major cities, you know, but a simple country town.”

A simple country town that not only possessed a shady contractor, but also a ton of subcontractors willing to do whatever was necessary if the pay was good enough.

“Yes,” I said, “but if the person or persons behind the attack can afford a weather mage, they can afford to buy pixie dust.”

There were actually two types—blue and gold. Gold was generally the refuse of the dust the two smaller pixie lines used to fly, and it could, in certain circumstances, be reshaped to make certain spells stronger. Blue dust was found in ancient forests under a special type of mushroom that only sprouted during a blue moon. It was generally used to replenish the dust trees from which both the Malloyei and Gadahn pixies—the two lines who flew—drew their power but could also be used as a spell augmenter and rejuvenator. It was definitely the deadlier of the two dust types, though few pixies dared use it with murderous intent because of that whole blood curse thing. It could also only be used by pixies, whereas gold dust could be used by anyone capable of magic.

“I’m not seeing any dust,” Lugh said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not inside.”

Or that there weren’t other spells set. He didn’t say that, but we were definitely both thinking it.

He gripped the handle. The door opened.

“I’m thinking that’s not a good development,” Holgan said.

“No.” I peered in through the window but couldn’t see anything more than a few vague furniture shapes.

I moved to the door, ducked under Lugh’s arm, and peered inside. The knives weren’t reacting, but I nevertheless got one out. The silver blade glittered coldly in the darkness that held the shop’s interior captive but otherwise gave no indication ill intent lingered within.

Lugh reached over my head and flicked the light switch. No lights came on. Another not-so-good sign.

Either that, or Gratham had decided not to pay his energy bills.

“Hang on while I go grab a couple of flashlights,” Holgan said. “Easier than using your phones, and less expensive if someone leaps out of the shadows and whacks them out of your hand.”

He hurried back to the car without waiting for an answer. I shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and, once my eyes had adjusted a little more to the darkness, said, “From what I can see, the place isn’t very big.”

There were a couple of desks, a few filing cabinets, and a half dozen rather uncomfortable-looking chairs. Obviously, Gratham did not want his clients hanging about too long.

“Which makes me think there might be a doorway along that back wall somewhere,” Lugh said. “The building is definitely longer than this room.”

Holgan returned with not only a couple of flashlights but also an ice axe.

I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned with an odd sort of relish. “Just in case things go south.”

I took a flashlight, turned it on, and swept the beam across the darkness. No one was waiting to pounce, and there was no obvious glimmer of pixie dust. There was plenty of real dust, however. Gratham was not overendowed with the cleanliness gene, apparently.

“The door is at the back to your left,” Lugh said.

I swept the beam over and saw it in the corner. I hadn’t spotted it the first time because of the stack of opened boxes sitting on top of the desk in front of it.

I walked across and took a look, but they were all empty aside from the usual packing crap. I moved around the desk, then stopped in front of the door, bending to check the handle. Still no sign of pixie dust, but that didn’t ease the inner tension. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but things had gone wrong for us so often recently that tension and paranoia were definitely warranted.

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